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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26786578">and it's all fun and games 'til somebody falls in love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellumGerere/pseuds/BellumGerere'>BellumGerere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>31 Days of Wayhaven, F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:47:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26786578</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellumGerere/pseuds/BellumGerere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>drabbles/short fics for 31 days of wayhaven. not in any particular order besides the order of the prompts. will likely all be f!detective/morgan.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Detective/Morgan (The Wayhaven Chronicles)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. undone, undone (sharp)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>wow bel is a simp for morgan literally no one is surprised lmao</p><p>i know some people have issues with prompt fills/drabbles/etc. being posted as one long fic rather than a bunch of shorter ones, but these are all going to focus on the same characters/relationships so hopefully that's cool! i generally prefer to format things this way just for organizational reasons anyway. i'll put the prompts after the chapter titles to help sort things a bit better! also i was listening to "undone" by katelyn nacon while i was writing this; i'll get around to finishing and posting a playlist eventually too -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Morgan thinks about biting her sometimes.</p><p>She doesn’t <em>do</em> it, of course—even the idea of it is enough to set her on edge most times, and besides, the sight of the scars on Novalie’s wrist is enough to deter her. But she thinks about it sometimes, when her fingers are wrapped around that wrist, when the nails of Nova’s other hand dig sharp into her back. Every once in a while the rust-taste of blood will be on Nova’s tongue, faint traces from where she spends too often with her teeth on the inside of her cheek. It’s almost too much, sometimes, but nothing with her is ever too much.</p><p>“How much are you holding back, exactly?” Nova asks her one night, rolling out of bed to push the window open. Morgan can smell the pavement of the parking lot, damp from rain, buried somewhere under sweat and the scent of Nova’s perfume. She paints her nails these ridiculous colors—not very professional, and Morgan suspects that it’s born at least in part from someone at the station telling her she couldn’t. They’re neon orange today, the lacquer chipped in the corners. She wears them shorter now than she used to. It had been hard for Morgan to suppress the smugness that rose in her the day she’d noticed that.</p><p>Nova is <em>bold</em> now, too. Not like the timid, blushing woman she’d been in the alley, or the sterile white hospital halls. Alone—not in public, anyway—she becomes someone else. She becomes—<em>ravenous</em>.</p><p>“You really want to know?” Morgan props herself up on her elbows to watch Nova as she turns. She’s been leaning her forehead on the propped-up window. Only for a minute, but enough to leave a faint red impression across her skin. It’s endearing—or it would be, if she cared about that kind of thing. If she cared.</p><p>The windowsill-line on her forehead, the neon nails, it makes it difficult to take her seriously, but she manages to look incredulous anyway, one eyebrow raised. “Have I ever given you the impression that I don’t want to know something?” There are faint wrinkles at the corner of her mouth that give away the game, but Morgan plays along anyway. Even now, it’s difficult to lure <em>this</em> side of her out, the one that jokes instead of flirts. The one willing to let her guard down, if only for a moment, even if it might be unwise.</p><p>“I don’t know.” She feels her hair spill onto the bed behind her when she tilts her head. Watches Nova’s eyes follow it as she runs her fingers briefly through her own, pausing to frown when a strand gets stuck under one of the loose edges of that ridiculous polish. “You barely talked to us for days after you found out about—”</p><p>“<em>Okay</em>. Point taken.” Her grin is interrupted, replaced by a grimace at the blaring of a car alarm half a block down as she returns to perching on the edge of the bed, close enough for Morgan to reach out and run the backs of her fingers over Nova’s thigh. She sleeps in oversized t-shirts and not much else (“why would I waste money buying pajamas when places give out free t-shirts all the time?” she’d explained once, and then gotten annoyed when Morgan pointed out exactly how large her collection of painfully bright-colored nail polish was), but it works to her benefit now, and when Nova next blinks, her eyes open again a bit slower, her next breath comes a little shakier.</p><p>“You were saying something?” Her own raised eyebrow makes Nova huff in feigned annoyance as she leans over, hovering on one elbow besides where Morgan rests on two. Her free hand tugs on the hem of Morgan’s shirt, slips under it, fingers warm against her skin. She turns her wrist slowly and—there, the scrape of her nails. The difference in texture between the chipped edges and the smooth surface of the lacquer is no longer the irritant it once was. Now, she looks forward to it, like she looks forward to the perfume and the neon colors that used to hurt her eyes and—<em>no</em>. Better to cut that train of thought off there.</p><p>“Was I?” Nova bends to fit her mouth to Morgan’s neck. Human teeth aren’t sharp, per se, but it makes her shiver all the same. “You might have to remind me.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>why is morgan always the one doing all the work tho....let the detective have a turn aldkfjalfkajl</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. bitter on your tongue (monster)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>one of my favorite things about doing the bold-flirting route in book two was how whenever Flirting happened adam and nate were like "go to horny jail" and farah is like "no...let them speak" -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>More often than not, Novalie shows up at the warehouse with a styrofoam cup from the bakery in one hand and a paper-bagged pastry in the other. Why she can’t just make breakfast at her apartment, Morgan will never understand, but it’s just another thing she’s gotten used to, the scent another thing she’s learned not to mind. Sometimes she finds herself paying more attention to it than she should, watching condensation bead on the outside of the cup and drip down, the water sticking to Nova’s fingers as she taps them restlessly over the surface. She never stays still, either—just one of the million things about her to add to the ever-growing inventory in Morgan’s head.</p><p>Not that she’s keeping count, or anything.</p><p>Today her nails are bright purple. The pastry in the bag is a blueberry donut; the coffee smells the same as it always does. There’s a stain on the rim of the cup the same shade of peach as her lipstick. Morgan’s eyes are glued to it as she watches Nova sets her bag down on one of the leather couch cushions and then sits herself down beside it. The lipstick still on her mouth looks undisturbed, but Morgan thinks that if they had more than a minute or two alone she could probably—</p><p>“Hey!” Nova turns around so quickly that the ends of her blonde ponytail hit her in the face as an arm reaches over the back of the couch and plucks the to-go cup from her hand. She twists herself around, pushing up onto her knees to reach out, but Farah has already slipped beyond her reach, grinning. It’s too early for this, Morgan thinks, the others haven’t even shown up yet, but she can’t say she minds the view, how the way Nova’s tucked her shirt in accentuates just how tight her jeans are. She could say it, if she wanted to—<em>the others aren’t here yet</em> would work in her favor then—but she keeps quiet, choosing instead to watch as Nova leans over.</p><p>“You didn’t pay for that, you know,” she finally says, somewhat defeated and hanging nearly fully bent in half over the back of the couch in a way that’s so appealing Morgan has to bite her lip to keep quiet this time. She’s starting to think maybe letting the scene play out uninterrupted won’t be so bad.</p><p>“I know.” Farah smiles. “But you show up here with the same drink every day. Now I’m curious.” She raises the cup to her lips, fitting her mouth over the remnant’s of Nova’s lipstick and tilting it back—only to almost immediately pull it away, scrunching her face as Nova finally pulls herself upright. “<em>What</em> is <em>that?</em>”</p><p>Farah holds the cup out, barely gripping it like she doesn’t want to be near it anymore, and Nova takes it. “Um. Coffee?” She turns to sit back down, folding one leg underneath herself. “You know, the same drink I show up with every day?”</p><p>“Yeah, but I didn’t know it tasted like <em>that!</em>” She turns to Morgan, an incredulous look on her pinched-up face. “You <em>kiss</em> her after she drinks that?”</p><p>Nova is barely suppressing a smirk as she raises the cup to her lips, taking a long drink before she sets it down, as though she’s trying to prove a point. They’re both staring at her now, but she finds it doesn’t irritate her as much as it might have, once. She doesn’t mind when Nova stares, anyway. “I don’t mind the taste,” she says, and while it’s not entirely true, any memory of the faint bitterness of it is often quickly erased by the taste of <em>her</em>, the warm slick press of her tongue, the texture of her skin. And Nova must know what she’s thinking, because the smirk comes out in full force, emphasizing the fact that her damned lipstick is still perfectly in place.</p><p>“Ugh. Well, as long as it’s your problem, not mine.” Farah sticks out her tongue as she turns back to Nova. “I can’t believe you drink that. Like, you put it in your mouth. Willingly. Every day.” She shudders, the motion clearly exaggerated but enough to replace the smirk on Nova’s face with something a bit warmer. She had been nothing but tense and polite when they first met her, but anyone can tell that she’s warmed up to them since. It stirs something in Morgan that she doesn’t want to think about too much—the sex is good, and that’s all it has to be. Right?</p><p>“And they call <em>us</em> monsters,” Farah says, and Nova laughs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>it is my professional opinion that if farah has ever had coffee she's had like the sugariest possible version of it that barely qualifies as coffee and nobody can change my mind. also i'm aware that my general reputation is something like "this bitch can make angst out of literally anything" so honestly i'm...not quite sure what happened here lmao</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. placebo feelings (mirror)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is quickly becoming the horniest series of fics i've ever written and tbh i'm not going to apologize for it....is there really any other way to write these two aldkfjalfkja. title is from 'mirror' by pvris, which seemed apt for the prompt and is also just a good song for them i think -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The more Nova stays over at the warehouse, the more she begins to appreciate just how <em>nice</em> the room they put together for her is. At first glance, she hadn’t seen anything special about it—besides the almost eerie way it resembled her own apartment—but every time she steps inside she notices something else. The walls here are a lighter shade of beige than the ones in her apartment to make up for the lack of windows. The floor is real hardwood, not some shitty laminate. The plants on the hanging shelves are also real, which means someone is taking the time to <em>water</em> them, because she’s certainly not around often enough to.</p>
<p>And underneath the scent coming from the diffuser plugged into the wall—something clean and crisp that she can’t quite identify—the faintest trace of cigarette smoke lingers on the sheets.</p>
<p>It’s strangely comforting, and she’s spent more than one night pressing her cheek into the pillowcase so she won’t lose it. She quit smoking after she’d been arrested and never looked back, but she find snow that the idea of it has recentered itself in her mind; it’s less about the act, though, and more about who’s doing it. She doesn’t mind that it’s not her. There’s…a certain appeal to watching, besides.</p>
<p>The sheets had to be washed eventually, though, and tonight even less of the scent remains than every time before. She huffs in annoyance as she shuts the door to the small attached bathroom behind her, dropping her clean clothes—or the t-shirt she plans to sleep in, anyway—on the counter next to the sink. There’s no real reason for her to be here, she thinks as her hands go to the buttons on the shirt she’s currently wearing. It’s not late enough for her to reasonably be worried about driving home. That was a flimsy excuse; she knows it, and she’s certain everyone else does too. Adam hadn’t reacted at all. Nate had rolled his eyes, Farah had winked at her. And Morgan…well.</p>
<p>She knows who it is when the doorknob turns, at least.</p>
<p>“You ever heard of knocking?” she throws over her shoulder without looking. Another button comes undone, and when she finally glances up at herself in the mirror Morgan is behind her, eyes on a spot just above Nova’s hands where the dark blue lace of her bra peeks through the unbuttoned shirt.</p>
<p>“We’ve got better hearing than you, sweetheart. We don’t need to knock.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but you’re standing here talking to me. A <em>human</em>. That doesn’t make any sense.”</p>
<p>Morgan makes an amused sound low in the back of her throat, her fingers curling around Nova’s collar to tug the two halves of her shirt farther apart. “You know what else doesn’t make sense?” she asks, leaning down to put her lips right next to Nova’s ear. Her hands take over on the buttons, undoing them far quicker than Nova herself had been, so soon the shirt hangs open. “How there’s still more than enough light out for you to get back to your apartment safely, but you’re <em>here</em>.”</p>
<p>“I—” Nova can’t help the shiver that courses through her at the feel of Morgan’s breath on her ear, and Morgan must know it, because her lips curl up into a smirk as she pulls Nova’s shirt down off her shoulders. Both their eyes follow the movement. The shirt drops to the floor, and Morgan reaches for the elastic in Nova’s hair and tugs that loose, too, so the strands spill down her shoulders. Barely a second later Morgan’s sweeping it all to one side, and the feel of her fingers on her neck makes Nova dig her nails into her palms.</p>
<p>“I can see you.” Morgan pauses, her lips barely an inch away from Nova’s jaw, and meets her eyes in the mirror. The pause only last a moment, though, and then her hands are moving again, and Nova’s reaching out to take hold of the edge of the counter in a white-knuckled grip. Morgan unhooks her bra and slides that down, too.</p>
<p>“Is that your way of changing the subject?”</p>
<p>“Maybe.” She laughs a little, a short, sharp sound, nervous even though this is far from the first time they’ve done this. It feels different here, somehow—in this warehouse, with others around who, as Morgan has only just pointed out, have far better hearing than she does. “Is it working?”</p>
<p>Watching Morgan pretend to consider the question would almost be amusing if Nova wasn’t already having so much trouble breathing, if the sight of them didn’t make heat pool low in her belly. One day she’ll get a grip on those feelings, but it’s clearly not today. “Yes.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this is also the most i've updated in the past several months and i did it all within a day...wild how when i write things just because i want to they actually get done lmao</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. carry me home (strong)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>honestly i have no idea what universe any of these are even taking place in anymore lmao.....between books mayhaps??? idk ladjkaljfk, also as usual i don't know what's going on here so we're just going to go with it -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The goddamned lock is stuck again.</p>
<p>Nova tries to force it for nearly half an hour before she finally gives up and slumps down against the door, resting her head on her knees. She’d already left her office much later than she’d originally planned, and the temptation of her bed, of the next day off, had begun to crowd out her other thoughts. Days to herself are rare now, and though she’s not exactly complaining, she’s been looking forward to sinking back into that routine, at least temporarily. Of waking up alone and not having to do anything more than tug on leggings under the t-shirt she sleeps in. There’s some sorting she can get done at home; the backpack she’s dropped on the floor beside her is full of loose papers and files to organize and then shove inside the cabinets in her office later.</p>
<p>Of course, that’s a lot easier said than done, considering she currently can’t get into her apartment.</p>
<p>Leaning back until her head thuds against the locked door, she considers her options. There’s a cot in the supply closet outside her office. She could drive back and sleep there. But the thought of dragging the backpack back downstairs, not to mention the possibility that her car won’t start (which looks more and more likely with each passing day), is enough to make the fatigue set in anew, so that’s out. She could call someone to help her, but she can’t help but be uncomfortable at the idea. The fact that most of the people she spends her time with are far stronger than her has only made her more determined to do everything herself. It’s—a bit ridiculous, maybe, but she’s made it this far just fine.</p>
<p>She’s seriously considering the idea of trying to get up the fire escape and hope she’ll have better luck forcing her bedroom window when the door opens behind her and she tumbles backwards, only just managing to catch herself on her elbows. “What—?” she starts to ask, and then sees the curl of smoke floating by a few feet above her head, and the whole thing becomes embarrassingly clear.</p>
<p>“How did you get in here?” Nova doesn’t even bother trying to get up—instead, she lays flat back on the floor and closes her eyes, trying to will the flush away from her face. Shoves her hands in her jacket pockets to try and disguise how they ball into fists. Tries her damndest not to look as flustered as she is, even though she knows it’s not working.</p>
<p>“The window.” Morgan tilts her head back towards Novalie’s bedroom, with an expression on her face that says this should have been obvious. Right. Just because they had a weird heart-to-heart (though even calling it that might be exaggerating) on the fire escape <em>one time</em>, she thinks  she can just waltz in whenever she wants. The fact that Nova’s probably the one who gave her that impression is beside the point. “You having trouble with the door, sweetheart?”</p>
<p>Nova can’t help the irritated huff that escapes her. Even with her eyes closed, she can tell by the way the light plays across her lids that Morgan is kneeling over her now. “Well, clearly I’m not anymore.”</p>
<p>“You could’ve called.”</p>
<p>She lets out another long breath as she opens her eyes. Morgan is reaching over her to grab the bag and pull it inside—and then her hands are on Nova’s arms, tugging her lower half over the threshold with what looks to be a minimal amount of effort. And maybe Nova’s more tired than she thought, or maybe she’s never really had cause to <em>notice</em> her strength before outside of a fight, but it’s… “You hate it when I call you.”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t mean you can’t.” She kicks the door shut so loudly that Nova wouldn’t be surprised if her neighbors stopped her to complain about it in the morning, and stretches out on the floor next to her so that they’re pressed together, her front to Nova’s side. She tugs on Nova’s arm, trapped between them, freeing her hand from her pocket and curling her fingers around Nova’s wrist. “Now are we gonna stay down here all night or would you rather take this somewhere more comfortable?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>tbh i don't think this is my best work lol but i got it done today and that's what matters right?? half the reason i'm doing this is to try and get back onto a schedule lol...i was considering doing something more along the lines of actual carrying (as the title might seem to imply) but honestly i really like the idea of nova seeing her do something difficult-but-super-mundane (like open a stuck door) effortlessly and being like...ok that's hot aldkfjalfkj. also if any of y'all have been around long enough to remember that time this happened to me and i had to call emergency maintenance and sit on the steps outside my apt for like an hour in the middle of winter you've been here a Hot Minute lmao. ALSO the fire escape thing is another fic i have planned but it might just end up being one of these prompts if i can make it work so we'll see</p>
<p>and i haven't slept in like a day so i'm sorry if this doesn't make sense i genuinely can't tell anymore</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. moonlight/sunrise (moon)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>aldkfjalfkaj i realized at like noon that i had an assignment due at 8am this morning that i hadn't done at all and so this might not even be going up on the right day because i had to finish that first....god i'm a mess lakdjfalfjk</p>
<p>edit from the 6th this is clearly not going up on the right day lol -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It doesn’t take long for Morgan to realize, once  she’s staying over regularly, that Novalie wakes up far earlier than she would expect for a human. Even on the nights when they don’t spent most of their time sleeping (that is to say, the majority of nights they’re both there), she’s up with the sun, and that seems to go for when she stays over at the warehouse as well. It doesn’t make much of a difference to her—even that early, she’s usually already slipped out by the time Nova is fully awake—but it’s different when they’re both at the warehouse, especially now that Nova knows about the roof. No one was supposed to know about the roof, but now Nova knows, and the next time that she stays over and Morgan slips outside from her own room, she’s already there.</p>
<p>It’s late enough in the night to be considered early morning, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon as the rest of the sky remains dark. What little moonlight there is reflects deliciously off her bare legs, and Morgan takes the opportunity to stare while Nova doesn’t know she’s there. She’s got her ankles crossed, knees pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them, and she looks so…small. It would be difficult to forget she’s human, but there’s always been something about her that made her feel like—more.</p>
<p>Her nails are some awful pink, but when she shifts her grip they catch the light gold, and for a second Morgan can’t stop looking at her hands. She’s got jewelry on, usually, little gold rings that seem impractical at best, but she’s not wearing any now, and it reminds her of…other instances in which she generally doesn’t have them on—but that brings the thought of Nova after Murphy to the front of her mind, to her wrist covered in bandages and the sight of the angry red scars when she’d finally been able to take the wrappings off. It wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on.</p>
<p>“You up early or up late?” she asks, just loud enough that her voice will carry, and she watches Nova tense for a moment before she realizes who’s behind her and relaxes again.</p>
<p>“Early.” Morgan sits down beside her, and Nova rests her cheek on top of her knee so she can look at her without moving too much. Her hair is tucked back behind her ear, but strands of it fall in front of her face anyway, and it’s more difficult than she anticipated not to reach out and brush them back. “Woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, so here we are.”</p>
<p>There’s not much space between them. There never is. And this close it’s easy to see the truth of her words, the circles under her eyes a surprise in themselves. Morgan’s never once heard her complain about getting up early—not that she’s ever stayed long enough to <em>know</em> if she does. Nova hasn’t complained about <em>that</em>, either, and Morgan’s not sure how, exactly, she feels about it. “You always wake up early.”</p>
<p>“Like you would know,” Nova snaps, and barely a second later her face scrunches up in contrition, and she turns to hide it, forehead against her knees, gripping her wrists a little tighter than she had been. It’s almost funny, how she seems to think that things like this will lead to fights—but what would she do? Disagree with the truth? On a professional level, she doesn’t want to start any pointless arguments that would make it harder to work together, considering how much of that they’re doing. On a personal one…they’ve got a nice thing going, and Nova’s sitting here in shorts and a little tank top that covers only a strip of her back and clearly doesn’t have anything underneath it. Not a sight she’s exactly eager to give up.</p>
<p>“Besides,” Nova continues after a moment of silence, her voice muffled by her own skin, “the sum’s usually up when I’m up. Early doesn’t mean <em>this</em> early.”</p>
<p>The bare skin of her back is too tempting, silvery and smooth in the light, and Morgan lets her fingers run over it—tracing the edge of her top, and then dipping below it. Nova tenses again, but she doesn’t pull away. She never pulls away. “Maybe if you stayed here more often you wouldn’t be waking up alone.”</p>
<p>It’s a lie; she knows it even as she says it, and she’s certain Nova does too, but she doesn’t call her out on it. Instead she lifts her head, and Morgan watches her lay back on the roof, fully stretched out. A small part of her hair is braided from where she must’ve been toying with the strands before Morgan showed up, and there’s something oddly endearing about it. Not that she’s <em>noticed</em>. She <em>does</em> take a moment to appreciate the fact that the front of Nova’s top covers just as little as the back had. She doesn’t bother hiding the movement of her eyes; this isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last.</p>
<p>“I dunno.” Nova grins, the tension of a moment ago forgotten, her back arching just the slightest bit as she stretches. “If you were waking up next to me, we probably wouldn’t be doing this.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this is one of the prompts i've had a more concrete idea for since i saw the list so i really enjoyed this one!! maybe someday i'll stop doing fade-to-black and be bold enough to actually write the smut but that day is not today lmao</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. somewhere that i recognized (broken)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i am once again behind because grad school is just Like That but hopefully i can get caught up soon adlkfjalfkja. i'm not sure exactly when this would take place but i'm thinking probably the night after the first time they slept together??? honestly i feel like these are all Vaguely au so we're just going to go with it -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was just for one night.</p>
<p>That’s what Nova keeps telling herself, anyway. There had been no promise of anything more, and it’s ridiculous of her to keep thinking that it could have ever <em>been</em> more in the first place. Morgan had made it perfectly clear what she wanted, and Nova had been okay with that—or, at least, she thought she had been. But waking up alone, with the <em>scent</em> of her still on the sheets, is another matter entirely.</p>
<p>The other side of the bed is empty, the faint lingering smell of cigarette smoke the only sign that anyone else had even been here. For a moment, the only thing she can feel is anger; she shouldn’t be here, naked and cold and <em>alone</em> while she’s out doing whatever it is she does when Nova’s not around. But that passes as quickly as it arrives, and soon she’s just tired. Wondering if she could get away with calling in sick so she can lay here all day and wallow. Get the self-pity out before she has to see her again.</p>
<p>Maybe she’s being ridiculous. No, she’s <em>definitely</em> being ridiculous. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.</p>
<p>It takes half an hour for Nova to convince herself that it’s worth it to get up and shower, and by the time she stands the sun is already peeking through the slatted blinds, making her blink against it. Her hair is a mess, she knows, and just thinking about the amount of time it will take to brush it out makes her tired all over again. She reaches up to run her hand through it, hoping to shake out the worst of the knots, and winces when her finger catches, yanking out a couple of strands as she pulls it back down. It’s only then that she notices the crack in her nail, previously hidden by a coat of polish that had been chipped away sometime during the night. (Now that she thinks about it, she might have been a bit liberal digging her nails into Morgan’s back. Not that she’d seemed to mind.)</p>
<p>She’s going to have to cut them all down to match, now, take the polish off and redo it, and somehow it’s that which makes her realize how upset she is. It wouldn’t be a problem on a normal day—now the thought is overwhelming. The energy’s been sucked out of her (now <em>there’s</em> a thought) and there isn’t anything left; just a bone-deep exhaustion that’s worse than anything she’s ever felt. Recovering from what—she can’t even think the name—what had happened at the warehouse doesn’t even compare to this.</p>
<p>Her phone buzzes, and it’s Verda, but she can’t bring herself to answer it—what would she say? How could she possibly explain this without explaining <em>everything?</em> She’s already let on more than she intended, and he’s smart; it wouldn’t take much more for him to figure her out. Nova stares down at her broken nail, weighed down, suddenly, by how overwhelming it all is. No, she thinks, maybe it’s for the best if she stays in bed today.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>idk if anyone was like this (probably not lmao) but if anyone was like 'wow bel these have all been surprisingly angst-free' well...here we are</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. a way to disappear (sleep)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>starting to think i'm physically incapable of writing a character that doesn't have major issues with saying what they actually mean aldfkjalfjaklf. also i've only played book 2 once so i might be getting some details wrong but i didn't want to wait until i was done with my replay to write this because god knows how long that'll take -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Morgan is getting sick of the room they’ve put her in to recover. It’s only been a day, she knows, but she hates being inactive. Staying still lets everything creep in on her—the sounds of people in the hallways outside, the smell of the antiseptic they slathered her wounds with even after she insisted she didn’t need it. She can keep the lights as dim as she wants, which she supposes is some consolation, but she can’t control what seeps in through the drawn curtains, or under the door.</p>
<p>She also can’t control the <em>people</em> that slip through the door in the middle of the night.</p>
<p>“Thought you would’ve gone back to your apartment by now,” she says as Novalie shuts the door behind her, quiet enough that even to Morgan’s hearing it barely makes a sound. She’s dressed in cleaner versions of the last clothes Morgan remembers seeing her in, t-shirt and jeans, and she’s taken a shower too, but she still looks…bad. There are deep purple shadows under her eyes, and when she gets closer Morgan can tell that her nail polish is chipped beyond saving—something she’s noticed that Nova only does when she’s nervous.</p>
<p>“I did go to my apartment.” Nova perches on the edge of the bed, like she’s afraid to get too close, to see her clearly. Morgan can understand the feeling, she supposes; the memory of what Nova had looked like at the warehouse, blood seeping from her wrist, comes to the front of her mind unbidden, and she shoves it away. “But now I’m back.”</p>
<p>“Why bother?” It comes out testier than she meant it to, and when Nova flinches it almost makes her regret the words, but she holds fast—though she does reach over to the bedside table, ignoring the pain that flares up in her side, to flick on the room’s one lamp. She’s prepared for the light, for the irritation it will bring, but when she turns back Nova is blinking against it, a hand lifted to her eyes for a moment before she lowers it again. Her knuckles are dry and cracked.</p>
<p>“You gonna make me apologize for checking in on you?” Nova’s tone is light, but Morgan’s been around her long enough now that she can sense the hurt lurking under it. She doesn’t want to fight right now; she’s too tired, and besides, Nova should be glad right now. Her plan worked. Sanja was saved, the maal-assad agreed to a treaty—things might actually be fucking <em>calm</em> for once. By all accounts, she shouldn’t just be glad, she should be damned proud. Not that Morgan is going to <em>tell</em> her that, of course.</p>
<p>“No, but I am going to wonder what you’re doing here so late. Thought you’d want your beauty sleep.”</p>
<p>Nova rolls her eyes, but some of the tension in the room has dissolves, and her posture at the edge of the bed isn’t quite so rigid. “I was planning to stay here. My things are over in my room, but I wanted to see how you were doing.” Her eyes sweep over Morgan, bolder than she’d anticipated—though she’s no stranger to Nova’s boldness—but there’s no heat in her gaze, just a strange kind of relief. “By the way you’re acting, though, I’d say you’re doing just fine.”</p>
<p>“So you don’t need to check on me.”</p>
<p>“Maybe I wanted to.” Nova turns away to seat herself more fully on the mattress, her fingers curling around its edge. Her voice is quiet now, uncertain in a way she hadn’t been only moments ago. “Besides, I—I’d rather not be alone right now.” When she turns her head to the side, making eye contact for the barest second, her grin is small, self-deprecating. “Unless you’d rather kick me out, that is.”</p>
<p>She’s thinking about the night in her apartment, Morgan knows, turning it into a reversal of sorts, and she can’t tell if it’s bait or if Nova’s just so tired that whatever semblance of a verbal filter she has is all but gone. It would be endearing if the light wasn’t hurting her eyes already, the sensory overload creeping in where Nova would usually dull it. “You can stay if you want,” she says, and it’s true. She doesn’t want a fight, and besides, the scent of her, sweat and skin and remnants of her soap, is far more pleasant than anything else in the room. “But I’m going to turn this back off.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Nova replies, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically for how exhausted she looks, and when Morgan narrows her eyes at her, she goes “I mean—fine, that’s fine,” and blushes so prettily that it makes Morgan wish she wasn’t injured, because she’d love to show Nova <em>exactly</em> what she thinks of it, especially when Nova starts to pull her shirt over her head and stands to unbutton her jeans. Instead she turns the lamp off and shifts over on the bed, just enough that Nova can lay down next to her. There’s more than enough space on the bed for them both, but Nova ends up, somehow, right next to her, her hair brushing Morgan’s arm in a way that would usually annoy her to no end. Now, though, she doesn’t really mind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>honestly i got this one done so fast after day the day 6 one that i don't. have anything to say. which is weird alkdjfalfjk</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. but this feels right (villain)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i feel like the idea i had for this makes the most sense if it's set after book one but before book two, so that's the timeline we're going with here. some spoilers for the end of book one, of course. also i'm So ridiculously behind but it's fine everything's fine -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As Nova stops to catch her breath, she looks back at the empty sidewalk behind her, lit only by a few streetlamps and the light streaming down from upstairs windows. She used to like running at night—but, then again, Wayhaven had never been this dangerous before. The sense of loneliness that had once been a comfort feels oppressive now, bearing down on her with such force that she only makes it a few blocks from her apartment before she’s forced to stop, leaning against a wall to catch her breath and slow the hammering of her heart. There’s no one else around, and certainly if there are any other supernaturals in the area, she would be informed, but—the feeling of being watched hasn’t gone away in weeks. She doesn’t know if it ever will.</p>
<p>Her phone buzzes in the pocket of her hoodie, startling her so badly that she jumps and then feels ridiculous about it, and she pulls it out and holds it up to squint at the name through the haze of fear and anxiety that clouds her vision. It’s a call from Rebecca, probably trying to check up on her, but she doesn’t have the energy to deal with that right now. Still, she can’t help but stare until it goes to voicemail, the screen flicking black once again. <em>Good</em>. She didn’t want to talk to her anyway—she’d waited until Nova was twenty-eight to start caring in the first place. It doesn’t matter that part of her feels guilty for dodging the calls. And the texts. And, once, the knocking at her apartment door that hadn’t stopped for nearly five minutes. That had been the worst one, the noise grating at her until she’d half a mind to get up and answer if for no other reason than to get it to <em>stop</em>—</p>
<p>“Something on your mind, sweetheart?”</p>
<p>The phone slips from her hand. She’s got it in a case, though—considering how often she drops it, it’s a necessary precaution in any event—so the screen doesn’t shatter, though her chest certainly feels as though it might. She can’t <em>see</em> Morgan, her voice comes from somewhere outside Nova’s field of vision, and somehow that makes it worse. Her fingers clench into the beginnings of a fist against the wall, nails scraping against the brick, and then there’s a hand on her shoulder, grounding her, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath. The still-healing scars on her wrist throb.</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” she accuses once her ribs stop feeling so tight, once she can lean down and pick her phone up off the pavement without worrying about who might be around her. Something occurs to her, though, as she slips it back into her pocket. “Can you even <em>be</em> any louder?”</p>
<p>When she finally turns around, Morgan looks—amused isn’t quite the right word, but <em>something</em>. Something other than annoyed, which is what Nova had expected after her reaction. Overreaction, some would say. “If I wanted to, sure. But noise is…grating.” Her eyes rake over Nova in a way that isn’t entirely unpleasant, even after—everything. “If <em>you</em> were the one making the noise, though…”</p>
<p>And Nova does make a noise then, just a quiet scoff, and tries to push past her, but Morgan steps to the side to block her way. The unreadable expression has morphed to one of—she’d say concern if she wasn’t <em>certain</em> that can’t be it. Sure, they’ve flirted a few times, but nothing that would warrant concern. Besides, she’s alive, isn’t she? That should be enough. “You alright?” Morgan asks, one eyebrow lifted. She says it perfunctorily, like she doesn’t really care. It should make everything easier, but it doesn’t.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Nova replies, and at the sight of Morgan’s disbelieving face, changes tack. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s been weeks since—”</p>
<p>And there it is. The name that sticks in her mind, it turns out, sticks in her mouth, too. She closes it instead, her teeth clicking together a little harder than she’d meant them to, and her hand curls around the opposite wrist, fingers slipping over the ridges of the scar. She doesn’t need to say it, though, because Morgan knows what she means, if her deep, slow breath is anything to go by. Nova bites the inside of her cheek, trying to calm herself. The last thing anyone needed was for her to have a breakdown right after she’d been insisting there was nothing to worry about. Morgan sighs, and the sound is almost—</p>
<p>Worried. It shouldn’t be. There was no reason for it to be, but it quells the nervousness welling inside her, makes her relax her jaw, the metallic tang of blood in her mouth.</p>
<p>“Well, come on, then,” Morgan says. “I’ll walk you home.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the ultimate fantasy that wayhaven is trying to sell you is 'this was once a place where it was safe to be out running at night' ldkjfakfjal</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. stubborn (fight)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>idk....what's going on here anymore. i'm so ridiculously behind bc it's Depression Season but i really want to finish this so idk?? also need to convince myself that there's no magical word count i need to hit for these to be done aldkfjalfk -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The attack is over in seconds, and Nova finds herself once again pinned to the floor beneath her, Adam’s arm across her throat. He makes a frustrated noise as he pulls back, hesitating before offering her his hand to help her up, like he doesn’t think she’s earned it. She rolls her eyes as soon as his back is turned. Making the decision to focus on combat had seemed a good idea at the time, especially since her background in various research—though, admittedly, not of the supernatural kind—is already strong, and she’d wanted to shore up her weak points after what happened at the warehouse. Somehow, she hadn’t realized it would actually mean getting beaten up for several hours every day. She manages to hold her own now far better than she did when they’d started a week or so ago, but she’s not yet strong or quick enough to beat him.</p>
<p>“You’re doing great!” Farah yells from where she’s lounging in the corner of the room, and when Nova looks over she flashes a wide grin. They’re the only ones in the training room now; Nate has sequestered himself in the library, trying to figure out exactly what had been at the carnival, and Morgan…Nova doesn’t know where Morgan is. Which is odd, now that she thinks about it, but also not something she wants to dwell on. She knows as well as anyone that Morgan can take care of herself, and besides, seeing her now, after—everything—might be too much. Nova is almost <em>certain</em> it would be too much.</p>
<p>“Her form is still terrible,” Adam says, and Farah rolls her eyes too, coaxing a small grin out of Nova as she turns back around. “At this rate, I don’t know that she’ll be ready if she stumbles into another fight.”</p>
<p>Novalie huffs, blowing a strand of hair that’s escaped her ponytail out of her face. “Well, maybe if you bothered to actually <em>instruct</em> me before you attacked me, I’d be learning more.”</p>
<p>Adam’s mouth thins into a line, and he turns away for a moment. Nova feels a flash of triumph; if it makes him feel even a fraction of the frustration that’s been coursing through her since they started training, the remark was worth it. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s barely progressed any, at least according to him, and the threat of a real fight is looming closer every day. She remembers the altercation at her office, the thralls that had knocked her unconscious on the street outside her apartment, and a shudder runs through her.</p>
<p>It doesn’t go unnoticed. When Adam looks back over, he softens a little—still more than she’s ever managed to get out of him in terms of friendliness, so she’ll take it. “I have no doubt you can defend yourself. You’ve proven that. But you panic, and that’s what we’re trying to fix.”</p>
<p>The comment isn’t meant as an insult—at least, she doesn’t think it is—but it stings like one all the same, and she scowls as she reaches up to fix her hair so it stays out of the way, her frustration boiling over. “What, like you wouldn’t panic? If a bunch of—<em>creatures</em> you’ve been spending your whole life thinking were fantasy suddenly showed up and they all seemed to be after <em>you?</em>”</p>
<p>Adam sighs, one hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “This is why we’re not getting anything done,” he signs. “Your attitude—”</p>
<p>“<em>My</em> attitude?” Her nails dig into exposed skin when she puts her hand on her hip. She knows how to <em>control</em> herself, at least. Mostly. “Yeah, because it’s my attitude that’s the problem. Not the fact that you’ve resented me since the first time we met—”</p>
<p>“You shot me, if I remember correctly,” he interrupts dryly, and Nova bites back a scream. She’d thought that brushing up on her combat skills would be the best option, all things considered, but just the fact that she has to spend so much time around Adam for that to happen has her regretting it. Her jaw aches from clenching her teeth together, but the precarious hold she has on her self-control is slipping with every passing moment.</p>
<p>“Like you wouldn’t have done the same thing! Isn’t that why we’re here? So I can learn to defend myself better than pointing a <em>gun</em> at a <em>vampire?</em>”</p>
<p>“Perhaps if you weren’t so stubborn, this would be going more smoothly.”</p>
<p>Her nails dig into the strip of skin at her waist, stinging against her hip, before she lets her arm fall back to her side and turns to leave. “Fine. If this is going so poorly, we’re done.” She can hear him trying to retort, but she blocks it out, trying to ignore the fact that there’s anyone else in the room at all, which is made more difficult by the fact that Farah follows her out. A moment after the door shuts behind them, they hear the sound of something hitting the wall.</p>
<p>Farah grins, all teeth, and somehow, it makes Nova feel a little better—at least, until she opens her mouth. “You know, you’re going to have to apologize to him later,” she says, and Nova groans.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>pretty sure there was a plot in here somewhere when i started this but oh well adlkfjalfakj (also the fact that there's no morgan in this one is like. a testament to my Incredible Self-Control or something lmao)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. concern (blood)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>what's happening? ur guess is as good as mine lmao -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time they kiss, Morgan can taste blood in Nova’s mouth.</p><p>It’s not enough to trigger any sort of reaction to it—the taste itself is almost stale, copper-like, not fresh by any means. More than likely, it’s because Nova has a habit of biting the inside of her cheek when she’s nervous; it’s one of the many things Morgan has noticed about her and subsequently filed away, especially since she spends more time than she’d like to admit staring at Nova’s mouth. She has this gloss that she wears on her lips, barely tinted, but it gives her mouth a sheen when the light hits her just right, and when they kiss it’s so overwhelmingly sweet that she doesn’t notice the blood—not at first, anyway.</p><p>She wouldn’t have thought much of it at all, if it didn’t keep happening, but it starts to grate on her after a while. It’s not that it holds any particular appeal to her; it’s never fresh when they kiss, diluted and half-covered by the taste and scent of <em>her</em>, but the fact that it’s there at all—that she’s stressed enough for it to be there—is worrisome. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, she begins to notice it more and more, and it never fails to occupy her mind after, when they’ve gone their separate ways and there’s nothing for her to do but think and wait.</p><p>One night, though, when they’re in Nova’s apartment and Morgan is coaxing Nova’s mouth open with her tongue, she has to stop and pull back, because the taste is there, and it’s <em>fresh</em>, and of course she knows how to control herself, but it’s so overwhelming on top of everything else about her that she’s forced to take a few steps back, and Nova’s left against the wall, panting and confused. She doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there in the same position Morgan left her in, shoulders back and hips forward, but after a moment she straightens, eyes narrowing.</p><p>“Okay, what did I do that time?” she asks, and though there’s a teasing lilt to her voice, it’s easy to see the worry in her eyes and, under that, a thin layer of hurt.</p><p>“Nothing,” she says quickly, and it comes out a bit more—sincere—than she’d meant it to, more concerned. Nova’s brow furrows, and she doesn’t look right at Morgan, fixing her gaze somewhere to the left, and Morgan frowns. “Starting to think we should get you a mouthguard or something, though.”</p><p>It only takes a second after that for the confusion on her face to smooth out, replaced with embarrassment. There’s something about watching Nova blush that makes her want to stay longer than she should, but she can’t think about that now. “Oh,” she says, tugging briefly at her lip with her teeth. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”</p><p>It’s Morgan’s turn to lift an eyebrow now, and when Nova looks up and sees her, a grin starts to pull at the corners of her mouth. “Do you even realize how you sound right now, sweetheart?”</p><p>She laughs a little, quiet but real, and it’s reassuring enough to Morgan that she takes a step forward, puts her fingers under Nova’s chin and tilts her head up. She doesn’t need to, not when they’re so close to the same height, but it’s good to do it anyway, to feel the heat of her skin. “You’re worried about me,” Nova accuses, the grin turning into a full-blown smile, and for a moment it erases the seriousness of it all—the fact that yes, actually, Morgan is worried about her; she’s been far too calm these past few months for someone whose entire world changed virtually overnight. If Morgan were in her place, she might’ve skipped town altogether, but Nova is still here, and still managing about as well as anyone could hope to be. The few nights they’ve spent together, though, it would be hard to miss the nightmares that shook her.</p><p>“Maybe I am,” she replies, and as much as she tries to sound flippant about it, there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that she knows Nova can hear, because her face softens a little as she leans back against the wall.</p><p>“Interesting,” she says, and winks, though it doesn’t match the turn the conversation has taken—several turns, all in a row, each just as surprising as the last. Nova tilts her head forward, and just before Morgan tastes blood again, she whispers “I’ll have to save that information for later.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. still changing for the better (transformation)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>me finally showing nate into one of these: the gang's all here...</p>
<p>this is more of a drabble than most of the other ones, but i actually really like it, so i'm gonna stick it here and not feel bad about how short i think it is aldkfjalkfj. also just so everyone knows i haven't replayed in a while, so if any details are off that's why lol -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Novalie hasn’t been the same since Murphy.</p>
<p>It’s almost painful to watch her draw back in on herself when she’d only just begun to come out of her shell, to stop being quite so stoic and let her guard down a little. None of them know what to do about it, Nate least of all; he’s felt a certain kinship with her since they met, but it had never gone beyond common interests—there hadn’t been any time for it to, and now she’s hiding in her apartment. Theoretically, it’s to recover from the bite she’d received at the warehouse. Nate only got one good look at it, right when it happened, and he still can’t get the image of it out of his mind, bloody and torn, though according to Rebecca, who’s managed to get Novalie to let her in exactly once, it’s healing well. But they all know the truth. At the very least, they can guess.</p>
<p>He doesn’t talk directly about it to the others, not at first, at least, but he can tell they’re all feeling the same way. Morgan, especially, seems uncharacteristically worried, and it makes him think, not for the first time, about how Novalie isn’t the only one who’s changed since they arrived in Wayhaven. The change in Morgan has been, perhaps, more discrete, but no less pronounced. And she’s more concerned about Novalie than anyone else in the unit; now that he knows the tells, it’s easy to spot. It would be interesting if he wasn’t feeling the same way—but instead, watching her pace back and forth through every shared space, going outside to smoke even more than usual, starts to grate on him after a couple of weeks.</p>
<p>There’s nothing he can do about it either, and that is, perhaps, the most frustrating part. He tries to lose himself in research, looking for ways to better protect her from whatever might be descending upon the town now that the knowledge of her blood is out, but he can only get through a few pages before he realizes he hasn’t actually taken in any of it, and he’s forced to go back to where he started. It repeats ad nauseam. That’s one thing Morgan seems to be handling better, at least—unlike Nate, she doesn’t seem to feel the need to fill the time with busy work, no matter how important the work might actually be. No, it seems like she’s been doing less work than everyone else, but no one blames her—he doesn’t think anyone does, anyway. He’d be surprised if he found out the others aren’t seeing the same things he is.</p>
<p>It’s different, though, when Novalie shows back up at the station, when they can all see her and make sure she’s fine. As fine, at least, as she can be, given the circumstances. And she looks genuinely glad to see them all, but Nate notices how her eyes linger on Morgan—even more surprisingly, how the stare is returned, and he thinks that maybe this has changed both of them more than they’d like to admit.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>me writing a cheesy ending because i couldn't think of anything else? it's more likely than you think (literally i had to look away as i was typing the last sentence because i couldn't handle how cliche it is but whatever lmao)</p>
<p>nova and nate have a good relationship so i want to do more with them actually interacting at some point but for now there's this aldfkjalfkja</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. with your kiss on my neck (flesh)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i would apologize for being like. mildly horny on main. but tbh i'm not sorry ladkjfalkf -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s something addictive, Morgan thinks, about the taste of Nova’s skin, the salt of her sweat over it and the way that it feels under her lips, that makes her more enticing than anyone else Morgan’s ever been with. And it isn’t only that, though on its own it would still be enough to convince her that being with anyone else would be a waste of her time. No, it’s the way she reacts that makes it so easy to keep coming back—the restless shifting of her hips, the way her eyes slip closed, how she bites her lip sometimes, not enough to draw blood but enough that the flesh catches between her teeth, only for her to let it slip back out. Morgan thinks, sometimes, that it would almost be better to watch her, to let her do what she wants to herself and just take it in, but she doesn’t have the kind of self-control required for that, and frankly, she knows Nova doesn’t either.</p>
<p>It always starts the same, with Nova’s back pressed up against the recently-slammed door of her apartment, Morgan’s tongue in her mouth, nails scraping against skin as they tug at each other’s clothes. Morgan’s ruined more than one of Nova’s shirts that way, but she never says anything when they end up with buttons ripped off and fabric torn, not even the next day when they see each other in a slightly more—professional—setting, so Morgan has to assume she doesn’t mind. It’s worth it, anyway, to be able to more easily move her mouth down to the faint dusting of freckles across Nova’s shoulders, continuing in a vain attempt to press her lips to every single one of them, a habit she’s noticed that Nova seems especially fond of reciprocating.</p>
<p>They don’t always make it to the bedroom when the clothes get torn. More often than not it’s the couch, or, on a few particularly memorable occasions, the beige carpet that Nova seems so ridiculously fond of, given the way she defends it from Farah’s joking. Morgan would never admit to it, but those are some of her favorite times to think back on. Nova’s got a lamp she keeps on when she’s out of the apartment—just a little thing on an end table by the couch, one that barely gives off any light, but it’s enough for Morgan to easily see her by. It’s dim to Nova’s eyes, though, and Morgan’s noticed that in the low light, when she’s used to thinking she can’t be seen, she’s far more…expressive. It sates the desire to watch her without forcing Morgan to give up feeling Nova slick under her fingers, her tongue—it’s almost too much, sometimes, and she doesn’t mind that it’s rare; it only makes those few instances stand out in her memory all the more.</p>
<p>She’s quiet most of the time, too, but not when the lights are dim. It’s almost funny to think about, the idea that Morgan wouldn’t be able to see her, and certainly somewhere in the rational part of her mind Nova is aware of that, but the rational part seems to fly out the window for both of them the second they’re alone. But that’s the most terrifying thing, isn’t it? The idea that Nova holds such sway over her that when it’s just the two of them, Morgan can’t think of anything but the feel of her skin.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the most ridiculous thing about this is how nervous i am to post it considering it's like the least spicy nsfw that's ever been written lmao...also another slightly cheesy ending but these are just drabbles so we're gonna go with it dlakjfl</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. a working relationship (apology)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is sort of a follow-up to the chapter for "fight." i personally don't have any problems with adam but my detective definitely does (and also she shot him that first night so he doesn't like her much either lmao) -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nearly a week after the last time she’d attempted to train with Adam, Nova stands outside the door to the room where they usually meet, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet and trying to prolong her stay in the hallway for as long as she possibly can. They haven’t spoken to each other since, and they’ve only seen each other once or twice, when circumstances dictate that the whole unit should be together to go over whatever they’ve found. Nova has been quiet during those meetings, reverting almost back to the way she’d been when they first met—only speaking when spoken to, but with a bite to her words, something that would hopefully indicate he couldn’t get away with talking to her like he had that day.</p>
<p>She knows she’ll have to say something about it sooner or later, and that sooner would be more beneficial to their ability to work together, as part of a team, but—there’s a stubborn part of her that resists the idea that she should be the one apologizing at all. He’s been nothing but patronizing and rude to her since they first met, and no matter how she tries to prove her worth, nothing seems to work. They get along now, she supposes, and that’s the nicest thing she can say about him on the best of days, though it doesn’t help that she’d put a bullet in him when they first met. She’d started to think, after what happened at the warehouse—she tries not to look down at the scar on her wrist as she remembers it—that they’d been getting somewhere, as the arguments had started to become less frequent. Now, staring at the beads of condensation on the outside of her coffee cup as she hovers outside the door, she wonders if she wasn’t, perhaps, being a bit too optimistic.</p>
<p>“You’re going to have to go in there someday, you know.”</p>
<p>Even if she hadn’t been able to see her, the scent of cigarette smoke heavy in the air would’ve given Morgan away. She hadn’t been around the smell much after she quite smoking herself years ago—no one she regularly encountered at the station did—and she hadn’t thought much about it in the time since, but being around Morgan so much was giving the scent certain new meanings, ones she can’t bring herself to be upset about. “I know,” she says, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment, feeling her hair spill down her back at the change in position. “But I don’t want to. What’s the point in apologizing when we’re just going to end up fighting again anyway?”</p>
<p>“You’re asking the wrong person, sweetheart.” Morgan props herself against the wall a few feet away from where Nova is standing. She eyes Nova’s hand, the sour-apple green of her nails and the way she’s gripping the styrofoam cup, and seems to realize that she’s more worried about this than she’s letting on—Nova hopes she does, at least, because she really doesn’t feel like explaining it, even to someone who would understand her. “But it might be better to just get it over with.”</p>
<p>Nova frowns and raises the cup to her lips, watching Morgan watch her as she takes a long drink. In her mind, she knows it would be the easiest thing to do, and the best, but even thinking about the words leaves a bitter taste in her mouth that can’t be entirely attributed to the coffee. Still, she sighs after she swallows, rolling her eyes as she shoves the door open with her shoulder and tries to ignore how much the action—and the thought of what she’s about to do—stings.</p>
<p>The others are already there, have probably been able to hear her—an idea that sends heat rushing to her face—but she doesn’t give herself time to overthink, just looks over at Adam where he’s standing by the couch. “Sorry about the other day,” she blurts, and she’s certain the words sound forced but he doesn’t immediately reply, just lifts an eyebrow and stares at her in a way that makes her supremely uncomfortable.</p>
<p>It’s silent for a moment. Farah and Nate are looking back and forth between her and Adam, and somehow that’s even more awkward than the miniature staring contest she’s found herself in the middle of. Eventually, though, he nods without speaking, and then turns to the others. “Let’s get to work,” he says, and she feels the irritation building all over again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>there's that one line in book 1 you can pick about looking at adam and then realizing you're just pissed off and that just about sums up nova's attitude towards him adlkfjafl</p>
<p>generally speaking i don't even know what's canon vs hc anymore and i'm just like stream of consciousness writing these as the ideas come to me so once again i'm sorry if anything is glaringly wrong, mayhaps someday i'll come back and edit these lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. new wounds (throat)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>another more drabble-y one! this is also sort of an au where novalie got bit on the throat, because in canon her bite was on the wrist. this is also kind of a setup for backstory stuff i might talk about later in more fleshed-out fics lol -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the—incident—at the warehouse, Novalie starts wearing her hair down. It’s easier that way, she thinks, to ignore the very real consequences of it, though it doesn’t stop her from feeling the ache where the newly-formed scar tugs at the skin around it when she turns her head. She can’t sleep on that side anymore; the one time she tries to the wound presses so uncomfortably against the pillow that it nearly reduces her to tears, and she ends up curled upright on the couch, forehead pressed to her knees, trying to block out the memories the sensation brings forth.</p>
<p>It’s not the first time she’s been hurt like this. She can still remember what happened when she was at school—the way the knife had felt in her leg, the warmth of her own blood pooling on the sidewalk under her. It wasn’t the main reason she left, but she’d be lying to herself if she said it wasn’t one of them. Even now, the healed wound still hurts sometimes, little phantom aches when she stops to think about its circumstances. Most days, though, it feels like nothing compared to the wound on her throat.</p>
<p>The bite isn’t a pretty one, either, not after how much she struggled, how harsh it had been in the first place. She’s only been able to bring herself to look at it once, and that had been when she was still in recovery—before she’d been allowed to move back to her apartment alone. The wound had been fresher then, still red and angry, and it had been hard to keep her eyes on it for more than a few seconds at a time. She takes it in doses, still, brushing her hair away and peeling the bandage back once or twice a day to gauge its progress. Soon enough she’ll be able to stop wearing the bandage entirely. Perhaps she’s already passed that point—she doesn’t know, and she’s almost afraid to ask. It’s easier to cover it up, to pretend that none of it had ever happened.</p>
<p>As if that helped with the nightmares, the times she wakes up screaming. They’re almost nightly now, and she’s got no one to blame but herself. She replays the fight in her mind again and again, trying to figure out where, exactly, she went wrong, where she could have kept herself safer. In the back of her mind she knows that the answer is probably nothing, that she was doing what she could considering the state they’d found her in, but it frustrates her all the same. Even worse—the thought of what the others will say when they see the wound. It was covered up every time she spoke to any of them, but it won’t be by the time she’s <em>stable enough</em>—Rebecca’s words, anyway—to return to work.</p>
<p>She wonders, sometimes, if any of them would blame themselves for it. That’s the thought that hurts most of all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. most nights (feral)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tbh i had no idea what to do with this prompt and i wasn't sure how i felt about it so this is even more drabble-y than most of the other things i've posted because i wanted to get Something down??? idk -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It doesn’t take long for Morgan to figure out just how insatiable Novalie truly is when it comes to anything physical. Soon enough after the carnival they spend parts of their nights together more often than not, and they spend less and less of them talking as well—it’s all physical, the slide of skin and the press of their bodies against each other. They say each other’s names sometimes, whispered or gasped, and that’s it. Based on first impressions, though, Morgan would have said that Nova didn’t seem keen on talking anyway; she spoke only when she had to those first few weeks, until she was comfortable enough—or had finally had enough of Adam’s attitude towards her. (It had almost been funny to watch them snap at each other, even if it derailed the work they were actually supposed to be doing. She can’t help but think that now, Nova would agree with her.) Now she speaks much more freely, with the exception of these nights they spend together, where barely a word leaves her mouth.</p>
<p>“You don’t talk much like this,” Morgan observes one night, when they’re already nearing the point where she would normally leave, both of them naked in Nova’s bed and pressed together, though motionless now; they’ve been there a while. Nova grins, a rare smile that shows her teeth, and turns to press her face into Morgan’s shoulder. Her lips close over the skin briefly, Morgan’s fingers sliding over Nova’s back, and they both shiver.</p>
<p>“Is that an observation or a question?”</p>
<p>It’s the most she’s said all night, besides a breathless welcome when Morgan’s tongue was already pushing into her mouth, and it almost feels—wrong to be breaking the silence like this. “Both.” Nova opens her mouth a little wider and scrapes her teeth across Morgan’s skin, and Morgan can’t help but notice the slight shifting of Nova’s hips against her thigh, making the corner of her mouth curl upwards. Even when they’re only supposed to be talking, she doesn’t stop.</p>
<p>“Well,” Nova says, pushing herself up on her elbow so that she’s leaning over Morgan, shifting just enough so that they’re fully pressed up against each other now, skin damp with sweat. “It’s because I can think of other things I’d rather be doing with my mouth.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>can u tell i felt really weird about this prompt aldfkjalfka</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. old pains (grief)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is based off a line from a previous day about rebecca attempting to visit nova while she's recovering from the end of book 1 but i don't remember what one that's in lmao...they don't exactly have a great relationship though so that's basically all that's going on here -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before her mother had come back into her life, Novalie hadn’t thought much about her father’s passing—not for a few years, anyway. When she’d first moved out of Wayhaven, intent on getting her degree and leaving town for good, it was on her mind almost every day. Would he have been proud to see her like this? To know what she’d made of her life? Nova had always hoped so, though in truth she had been too young at the time of his passing to really remember anything about him.</p>
<p>She had a few pictures, carefully packed away in a box that she kept on the top shelf of her closet, that Rebecca had given her after she graduated high school. The last time she had taken them down to look at them was the day she joined the force, and she’d been so ashamed of the things that had led her to that point that she put the box away and hasn’t pulled it back out since. Now, though, it’s been on her mind almost constantly, especially since she has little reason to leave her apartment anymore, when the constant danger that lurks around her is enough to make her nervous even surrounded by people who are more than capable of protecting her.</p>
<p>Up until now, she hadn’t missed him much, either. What was there to miss when she barely remembered him? Now that she sees Rebecca more days than she doesn’t, though, she’s starting to think about things differently. The reality is forced into her view—she didn’t have just one absent parent, she’s always had two, and it’s never been more obvious than it is now, when Rebecca is clearly trying to make up for it in any way she can. It doesn’t matter what she does, though; it all falls flat when she’s had twenty-six years before now to try and be there for Nova. She doesn’t want to let her mother into her life any more than she has to be, any more than her new work with the Agency requires.</p>
<p>Her father, however—for some reason, she can’t get him off her mind.</p>
<p>Maybe it’s the recent near-death experience, she thinks as she drags a worn chair from the dining room across the apartment so she can use it to reach the box, tucked away so thoroughly that even standing on her toes she has trouble reaching it. This is her first and only apartment in Wayhaven; when she moved in years ago, she’d put the box in the closet and left it there. It’s small and plain, no hint of just how valuable its contents are to her, and she doesn’t even bother taking it back over to the bed, instead sinking down to her knees on the chair, one hand against the wall beside her so she doesn’t fall.</p>
<p>She hasn’t even taken the lid off the box, though, when she’s interrupted by a knock on the door. She hesitates, the hand that was on the wall now gripping the back of the chair, glancing out in the direction of the living room, but decides, when whoever it is doesn’t immediately knock again, that she doesn’t need to answer now. It’s only a moment after that, though, that the voice comes, calling her name in an uncharacteristically quiet tone—Rebecca. Here to see her after nearly a week of checking in via short texts.</p>
<p>The flash of anger that goes through Nova at the sound is difficult to control, and it isn’t until she hears the sound of the cardboard bending in her hand that she looks down to see just how tightly she’s gripping it. The sight makes her drop the box, and it lands on the floor still mostly-intact, but it’s—enough. Enough that when she kneels down on the floor next to it to pick it up, she can already feel the pressure of tears behind her eyes, and the sound of Rebecca knocking again is what pulls them loose. She collapses with her back against the side of the mattress, turning her face into the blankets for a moment in an attempt to swipe the tears away, and then, ignoring the pleas that steadily grow more and more insistent, she opens the box.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i could write things that aren't angsty but like where's the fun in that lakdjflafkjal</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. new scars (AU)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>uhhhh i'm not feeling particularly creative with the au so this is a continuation of the other prompt that talked about nova being bit on the neck vs on the wrist, because i think the location would definitely change her feelings about it?? like a neck bite is harder to hide/cover up and she'd be kind of self-conscious about it at first, since it's not exactly a small scar either -bel</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Morgan doesn’t like being reminded of the prominence of the bite marks on Novalie’s neck. Nova’s started wearing her hair down ever since the warehouse, so no one else sees them often, but every once in a while she’ll brush her hair back behind her shoulder and the mark is on prominent display. It’s not a neat scar, either; she’d struggled so much that it’s messy, still fresh-looking even though Morgan knows Nova’s been doing all she can to fade it more quickly, to tone down the angry red of it into something softer. There isn’t much that can be done at this point in doing anything about it now, it’s too soon for whatever she tries to make a difference, but Nova confesses to her once, when they’re alone, that she finds the routine soothing, that doing something is better than nothing even when she knows it’s pointless.</p>
<p>“I can feel it there,” she says, turning to press her face into the pillow. The unmarked side of her neck is facing down, and the scar is on display in all its glory, a stark reminder that even though they were all meant to look after her, none of them had been fast enough to stop this from happening to her. She’ll wear this reminder for the rest of her life. “That’s the problem. No matter what I do, I can still feel it.” She makes a face, her tongue caught between her teeth. “It…pulls. I hate it. I hate knowing that it’s there.”</p>
<p>Things are quiet, for a second, and then Morgan reaches up, letting her hand hover a few inches above Nova’s neck, a silent request. Nova’s eyes flick back and forth between the hand and Morgan’s gaze, but it doesn’t take long for whatever uncertainty is there to clear, and she nods, if a bit hesitantly. When her fingers finally make contact with Nova’s skin, Nova shudders and lets her eyes slip closed. It feels—different, in a way that’s not entirely pleasant, the slip of the barely-healed scar in stark contrast to the softness of the rest of her skin. Still, her reaction isn’t giving any indication that it’s painful or overly uncomfortable, so she continues, tracing the edges of the wound and watching Nova relax into the touch.</p>
<p>“Is it good?” Morgan asks, letting a smirk creep onto her face and into her tone when her fingers brush the join of her neck and shoulder and Nova lets out a quiet sigh. She opens one eye partially to stare back at Morgan, narrowed in a way that she hopes indicates amusement and not genuine anger or pain. She doesn’t shy away from the touch, though; on the contrary, she arches into it, pressing up into Morgan’s fingers.</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” she says, grinning herself, and the temptation of her skin is too much for Morgan to resist; she leans forward, brushing the last bits of Nova’s hair out of the way, to press her mouth to that same spot, right at the base of her neck, and Nova moans, quiet but long, her own fingers pressing into Morgan’s shoulder. “Okay,” she continues breathlessly, “maybe a little more than fine. Still feels—weird, though.”</p>
<p>Morgan pauses, draws back enough that they can meet each other’s eyes. “I’ll stop if you want,” she says, and she means it—there’s no point to this if she’s just going to worry the whole time. No point if Nova isn’t enjoying it too. But—</p>
<p>“No,” she replies, her cheeks flushed as she turns her face further into the pillow, reaches up with the hand that was on Morgan’s shoulder to make sure her hair stays back. “No, you can—I—” She pauses for a moment and laughs. “I think I’ll be fine.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>coherent plot??? idk her</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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